


no one else is such a beautiful dream

by timeespaceandpixiedust



Category: RWBY
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, soft moments post battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 01:59:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17479073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timeespaceandpixiedust/pseuds/timeespaceandpixiedust
Summary: Post 6x12 - After the final battles have been sorted and they are finally on their way to Atlas, Blake and Yang have a moment on the airship.Pure fluff and tender moments





	no one else is such a beautiful dream

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of feelings and they must go somewhere.

Exhausted does not even begin to broach what they’re feeling at this point. From the moment they’d created that half-hatched plan, to the fight with Adam, and then the Grimm. So many, so big, smarter than the Beowulfs of the forests or the Ursa in the outskirts. 

 

Exhaustion is only the very beginning of what is settling deep in their bones right about now, a load trudging them down, weighing down on weary bodies. 

 

But they did it. Success came in waves, often with failure laced throughout, but this was one battle right after the other, and they came out the other side with only minor trauma to stack onto the already existing pile. 

 

The airship they take, this one new and properly piloted, isn’t exactly meant for resting, these things are intended for defense after all, but they make the best of the space regardless. 

 

Ruby hits the ground first, throwing her forearm over her face and groaning. “I’m so hungry,” she whines.

 

“Well I’m just glad Juane’s plan wasn’t a  _ total  _ disaster,” Weiss snaps, arms folding over her chest as she finally lets her weapon drop, her defenses lowering. 

 

“I’ll take it,” he answers back, hand on the back of his neck and a grimace of a smile in place.

 

Qrow nods in his direction. “You didn’t do too bad, kid,” he offers. “None of you did.” His eyes settle on Ruby where she now lays stretched out on the hard metal floor, breaths evening out. Next, he glances to Yang, raises a questioning eyebrow in her direction. She nods in confirmation.  _ I’m okay,  _ she tells him.  _ I’m still alive.  _ Right now, that was good enough. 

 

Blake’s been by her side since they’d watched Adam careen over that cliff, since they’d heard the faint splash of his body hitting the water below. Even in battle, with a half-formed weapon and a broken away aura, Blake remained by her side, the two of them working in synchronicity until they finally could rest until the chaos had closed, the mayhem managed. 

 

She falls to the ground, ears falling forward as she rests her back against a large shipment box, her head falling into her hands as she tries to remember air and heartbeats and what they mean, what the involuntary actions symbolize. 

 

It’s almost in the same second that Yang falls beside her. There’s a hand on Blake’s back, another wrapping around one of the wrists, pulling her arm gently from her face.

 

Holding Yang’s stare, Blake tries to find words, tries to express the gratitude that’s still swelling, the fear that has not yet dwindled, the love that’s bursting out of her in any way possible. She shifts her arm down so that she can grasp Yang’s hand in her own, interlocking their fingers and squeezing. 

 

“Are you okay?” Blake asks. It seems like the only question worth asking right now, the only information that truly matters after everything that has taken place. “Are you...are you hurt?”

 

During the fight with the Grimm, Yang had taken a heavy blow, let out a cry of pain as she was forced off her feet and slammed into the earth with every atom of oxygen forced from her lungs. Blake had taken a visual assessment for a half second, reminding herself over and over that  _ Yang is okay _ before launching back into attack, holding the monster off so Yang could catch her breath. 

 

Yang shakes her head, hand falling from Blake’s shoulder as she lets her body fall back against the box, head faced upwards as her eyes slip shut. “Are you okay?” she parrots back, not looking, she didn’t have the energy for looking right now. 

 

“Yes,” Blake answers quickly. It doesn’t seem like a good enough answer, is she more than okay? Less than it? Will she ever just be merely okay again? But it’s the answer Yang deserves.

 

“Are you really?” she shoots back, finding it in her to lift her head and fixing Blake with a stare, challenging but still gentle, still willing to relent if that was what Blake needed right now. 

 

Blake’s head drops, turning in on itself and away from Yang’s imploring eyes. “I don’t know,” she admits in a whisper. “I’m...I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t-I can’t thank you enough.” And of course, she’s crying again. Not because she’s overwhelmed with sadness, though that sorrow is still rough and exposed; she’s overcome with the fact that Yang had come. Just when she’d needed her, just when she was being warped into those miserable thoughts of alone, solitude - self-imposed or not.

 

Yang raises her right hand to Blake’s face, touches her gently, the barest graze of contact before settling there, forcing their eyes to stay locked on one another, just like before. Yang may be too tired for this, too worn for emotions and reassurances, but she pulls it from the very depths of her soul, gathers what she can continue to offer. 

 

“Yes,” Yang releases the word in an exhale, her breath ghosting along Blake’s lips, warm air rushing over Blake’s face, her eyes fall shut of their own accord for just a second. The peace of the moment settles around them like a blanket, holding them warm and close and tight. “You can.”

 

“How?” She can’t help but ask, imploring for how, after everything Yang has sacrificed, all she has suffered, how she can still be sitting here, how she can have this same patience, this same gentleness, how anyone could see Blake as deserving of this intensity, this ferocity, of love. 

 

Yang smiles, lips stretching slowly as her eyes lighten, lilac irises holding Blake close, drawing her in further still. “You’re here,” Yang tells her, tongue darting out to lick her lips, head falling slightly to the side as she widens her eyes tightening her hold even further. “And you aren’t leaving.”

 

There’s no question, no need for reassurance. Blake had been desperate for Yang to understand the truth, to know there would be no running, no disappearing act. She’d already been aware before Blake had sobbed the words out. “No, I’m not,” she agrees anyway, still desperate to offer the reassurance. “I couldn’t.”

 

Yang’s breath catches halfway in. “Why not?” she demands, making Blake evaluate why she’d chosen to say that in the first place, why she wasn’t able to hold it back.

 

“I-” she stalls, stutters, attempts to rev the truth outside of her. “I don’t want to.” She wants to be here, right here, forever. With Yang’s fingers laced through hers, a hand pressed against her cheek, eyes holding each other, her lips close and warm and all but asking for her. “I want you,” she admits, too lost in the bubble of this moment to be self-conscious of the fact that anyone who wanted could be listening right now. “I need you.”

 

Yang’s face opens, her mouth dropping just so, eyes widening in the admission, breath rushing out of her lungs. Her hand tenses within Blake’s. 

 

“And I’m sorry. I’ve run, and I’ve been stupid, and I don’t deserve to need you. I don’t deserve to-”

 

Yang cuts her off by sliding her hand to the back of Blake’s head crossing the distance until she was a mere centimeter from Blake’s lips, her own parted, ready and waiting. 

 

Blake doesn't make her wait for long. She covers the immeasurably small distance and meets Yang there, eyes falling shut as she tries not to lose herself in the sensation of fingers curling in the back of her hair and soft lips meeting hers with a gentle urge, a barely hidden bought of desperation. 

 

Blake’s hand reaches forward, wrapping around Yang’s back, trying to draw her closer, trying to feel as much of her presence as possible. 

 

Maybe it’s Yang who pulls away first, before they can go any further, before Blake can lose herself entirely. Perhaps before either of them can. 

 

Yang’s nose nuzzles gently against Blake for a second before she pulls away, a smile not quite contained shining back towards Blake. “I guess,” Yang murmurs, her face breaking out in unrestrained happiness as she takes in Blake’s own easy eyes, shoulders relaxed, the fight entirely gone from her body as she submits to  _ this _ . “It might be more accurate to say we need each other.”

 

“I could get used to the idea of that,” Blake offers, unsure if the room was spinning from fatigue or the rush of the moment, the exhilaration of victory and safety and warmth all at the same time.

 

“Good,” Yang settles her head against Blake’s shoulder, letting her body slump just so until Blake’s entire right side is warmed from the presence of Yang Xiao Long pressed along her. “‘Cause I sure need a pillow right about now.”

 

Blake laughs, settling herself against Yang, feeling the steadiness, the assurance of the moment. “Same.”

 

“We’ve got one hell of an arrangement already then, babe.” Blake can practically hear the smirk in her tone, can feel the way it softens as the nickname slips past her lips. 

 

Okay, Blake decides, doesn’t even get to touch this moment. This moment was a league of its own, and it was so far beyond any word as simple as okay. 

 

Perfect didn’t really seem quite right either, but it’s the best Blake’s got right now. Perfect would just have to do for the time being. 


End file.
